Come Alive
by nerdlife4eva
Summary: The Golden King discovered his Silver Prince on one fateful Saturday morning. What the King doesn't know is that behind the silver paint is a man who writes for the very same paper he does. When fate brings them together in two worlds, will the Golden King and Silver Prince finally find the love they are searching for?


Victor hated being stuck in one place. He had made a career of chasing down stories, not concentrating on the hate and evil of the world, but instead tracking love throughout all the remote corners of the earth. He had told the stories of princes and paupers, of romances born in strife and those rich in ancient traditions. He had gallivanted with Hollywood stars and rubbed elbows with royalty. Victor had made a name for himself by telling remarkable stories of love.

He had also found himself in hot water with his editor after his last story, which explained why he was currently metaphorically chained to his desk. The punishment was unjust, as Victor's story had been another soaring success for their publication, but Yakov did not appreciate how closely Victor's name was tied to the proclaimed "breakup of the century."

Still, being stuck in this particular place was proving to have its own benefits. Leaning forward with his hands braced on either side of the small sink, Victor examined his face, noting that the bags under his eyes had finally begun to fade. Glancing behind his reflection, Victor hesitantly smiled at the shimmering gold blazer, hanging delicately over the rest of his finely pressed gold suit.

Letting the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth finally have its way, Victor hooked a finger through his makeup bag, flipping it open to reveal the expensive gold paint and carefully chosen applicators. Dipping his fingers into the bag, Victor lifted his supplies, grinning again at his reflection as he began to process of changing himself from man to statue.

Saturday mornings meant it was time to fulfill his own fantasy version of love.

Victor bit his lip as to not smudge his makeup with his growing smile. He couldn't wait to feel the warm breeze on his face, he couldn't wait to see the crowds smiling as he executed his routines, but mostly, he couldn't wait to see the smirk of the man he only knew as the Silver Prince.

Feeling the anticipation bubble in his chest, Victor quickly went to work, brushing careful strokes of gold paint over his cheeks, transforming himself from tired reporter to Golden King as thoughts of his prince danced in his mind.

* * *

A small _clink_ echoed in the bathroom as Yuuri set his glasses down next to the sink. Examining his blurry reflection in the mirror, he carefully began to wipe paint across his cheek, keeping the pressure light in order to avoid streaks. Slowly, the dull look of his everyday appearance began to disappear. Yuuri, the plain, shy journalist, vanished from the bathroom, leaving Yuuri, the charismatic statue of polished silver standing in his place.

Carefully replacing his makeup into his tackle box and slipping his glasses into the custom pocket at the top, Yuuri turned to slide his costume from its designated hanger. He guided the slightly stiff silver pants over his legs, straightening the seam before reaching forward for the sequined top which perfectly matched the silver of his bottoms. Unlike most performers, Yuuri had a set of silver gloves which accompanied the rest of his attire, and he took his time looping the delicate buttons into their place. Slipping his silver-socked feet into his expertly shined silver shoes, Yuuri straightened his back, examining his visage in the bathroom mirror.

Even though Yuuri was in his second year performing as a living statue, it still startled him every time he made his transformation. Hair pushed back and sprayed silver, glasses missing, cheekbones highlighted by the precise application of silver paint, Yuuri no longer looked like the newspaper rat glued behind his computer, relegated to editing and publishing missed connection ads. This version of himself looked regal, shining in silver detail and almost handsome if Yuuri believed the comments of his audience.

The difference between regular Yuuri and Silver Prince Yuuri had proven to be Yuuri's saving grace on one fateful Saturday when his idol had happened upon his performance. Yuuri had been in the middle of a routine, moving only when the crowd didn't expect it and causing them to laugh at each of his antics.

He hadn't recognized the man attached to the exquisitely coiffed silver hair, later noting that it had to have been the adrenaline of performing which had left him clueless. Without hesitation, he had flicked the man on the back of the ear, careful to apply enough pressure to startle, but not harm.

His mockingly innocent facial expression had made the crowd giggle, but he had almost broken his carefully controlled position when Victor had wheeled around to stare at him with shocked indignation. Those blue eyes had settled on his face, and Yuuri had felt the fear gripping in his chest waiting for Victor to recognize him. When no such recognition came, Yuuri slowly uncrossed his arms, reaching up to poke Victor in the middle of his part, opening his mouth wide in teasing shock as he faced his audience. "He is the same color as that guy's hair!" a little girl shouted, making Victor huff and Yuuri suppress a giggle behind his hand.

"Rude," Victor had stated, eyes narrowing in Yuuri's direction.

 _Adorable_ , Yuuri had thought silently to himself, deciding on his next move before his rational mind had a chance to argue. With a series of three robotic moves, Yuuri took hold of Victor, bracing him as if they were dancing to Yuuri's lead. The shocked flush on Victor's cheeks had stoked Yuuri's confidence and he jokingly began to spin Victor in a mechanical slow dance, pausing with each new position and holding in his laughter at Victor's overwhelmed expressions. As the crowd roared with laughter around them, Yuuri's focus narrowed to the single point of Victor's face, which remained covered in the red of his blush and brightened by Victor's beautiful smile.

Their interaction had only lasted a moment, but it had spurred something even greater.

The next week when Yuuri had arrived at the park for his scheduled performance hours, the Golden King had appeared next to him. Underneath his questionably applied gold paint, Victor wore excitement as his greatest accessory. Without a word, Yuuri had offered his hand to the other performer and they had fallen into a rhythm which delighted the crowds and left Yuuri's heart aching at the conclusion of every performance.

Closing the lid to his tackle box, Yuuri carefully finished adjusting his costume as he continued to consider himself in the mirror.

Someday, he hoped that Victor might notice him when he was ordinary Yuuri, sitting in the back of staff meetings, unassuming in looks and in talent. Until then, Yuuri could only hope that his heart would be satisfied with the attention Victor was willing to give him as the Silver Prince, cherishing every minute of their Saturday mornings.

Satisfied with his appearance to the fullest extent he could be, Yuuri nodded one more time at himself before exiting the quiet calm of the bathroom and heading straight toward the man who was simultaneously breaking his heart and putting it back together.

* * *

Their routine had developed naturally, even without private practice or rehearsal. As living statues they generally stood still, only moving at times which would cause pure delight and wonder to those people circulating through the park.

Yuuri's executions of transitions were flawless, and even on the first morning when he was stunned to discover Victor, covered in gold and grinning openly at him, he had managed to keep his composure intact. He held his presence of mind in one piece, even as Victor took a position almost too close for Yuuri's comfort and continued to contain his nerves even when Victor had decided to pose with his hand braced on Yuuri's shoulder.

It had been the longest two minutes and thirty seconds Yuuri had ever experienced, but he hadn't denied the tingling feeling in his shoulder, his skin springing to life everywhere that the pressure of Victor's fingers had squeezed. Feeling a strange sort of confidence bleeding out from his swelling heart, Yuuri had spun on his heel, bracing his hands behind Victor's head and around his waist.

The dip had lasted only two minutes, hardly a record for a frozen position, but Victor would never forget the steady strength of Yuuri's arms wrapped around him as he struggled to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. They had held each other's gaze, eyes locked and searching as the crowd around them swooned. When the next shift came, Victor took charge, pulling Yuuri flush to his body with fingers pressed into Yuuri's hip, bracing Yuuri's back to his chest.

Hours later, Yuuri would still remember the feeling of Victor's breath ghosting over the back of his neck. He would recall the feeling of Victor's fingers squeezing his hip bone, and the hard line of Victor's chest held still against Yuuri's straight back. They fit, like a two-piece puzzle crafted with complicated edges and smooth curves.

The feeling remained, even after weeks of Saturdays, even after Yuuri continued to flee the park at the final chime of the clock standing in the center or it, even after Yuuri had realized he would never be brave enough to tell Victor who he was in real life.

Raising his head as he approached their usual spot, Yuuri felt the familiar flutter in his chest spying Victor already posing, one hand raised to his forehead, the other hovering over his hip as if he was searching for someone. A little voice whispered in Yuuri's mind, reminding Yuuri that he was the person Victor was searching for, as his heart twisted wishing only for a moment that they weren't hiding behind costumes. _Someday… maybe…_ Yuuri cut off his own thoughts before they left him longing again for things he couldn't have. Placing his black bag on the ground next to Victor's, he took a spot behind his partner, squatting slightly pretending to hide below Victor's sight line.

Internally, Victor could feel the happiness rising in his chest as he kept his face schooled in its searching expression. For the next three hours, he would have his prince and after that he would have the memory of his prince's fingertips against his cheek and the feeling of being safe in his prince's arms.

 _It was enough_ , Victor told himself, rotating at the waist to look over his prince's head, barely suppressing a giggle as his prince leaned in the opposite direction with one finger pressed over his silver lips. It was enough to merely share these moments with another person, to pretend, if only for a small portion of time, that he really was the Golden King in love with the Silver Prince who loved him back just as much.

In the back of his mind, Victor knew that someday it wouldn't be enough, but he pushed that thought away, breath rushing from his lungs as they shifted again, the prince's hands resting on his hips as they smiled directly at each other. As the cameras flashed around them, Victor let himself get lost in the fairy tale, letting his heart soak in every magical detail.

* * *

Thumbs pressed into his temples, Victor stared at the screen in front of him, the blank page mocking his painfully blank mind. Around him, the noise spiraling through the office became static, a grating underlying current without distinct words or meaning which was jabbing dangerously against the stress throbbing in his neck.

"Working hard or hardly working?"

Groaning, Victor slouched back, raising his eyebrow at the kind face poking over the top of his cubicle wall. There was still a piece of him that was bitter about being stuck back on the floor with all the main column writers, but Victor shoved it away as he studied Georgi's face. "How does anyone work in here?" Dramatically, Victor threw an arm over his face, sinking further back in his chair.

"You know-" Georgi started, his words coming to halt as he scrambled to stand up straight, trying to hiss a warning through his teeth at Victor.

"Vitya."

The stern tone startled Victor but he tempered his reaction, dropping his arm and staring dutifully at his editor in chief. Yakov Feltsman, the man who had given Victor his wings and then promptly clipped them when he deemed that Victor had dared to fly too high. Tilting his head, Victor examined the serious look being leveled in his direction. "Did you need something?" He heard Georgi's sharp intake of breath. Victor's smirk escaped before he could prevent it.

"A little effort from you would be nice," Yakov responded, placing a hand at the back of Victor's chair and shoving it back toward Victor's desk. "Since you've been back, you've managed to produce absolutely nothing."

Feeling his stomach turn sour, Victor fixed his eyes on the empty screen, his heartbeat beating in a matching rhythm to the cursor waiting for his attention. "Hard to write with restrictions," he mumbled, hearing the grunt behind him as his only confirmation that Yakov had heard his comment.

"Since you seem so obsessed with the idea of love," Yakov slapped a paper down on Victor's desk, jabbing a finger at the column above the fold. _When Fate Fails, Let Katsuki Connect You_ read the tagline, making Victor turn a puzzled look toward his editor. "Outside of your flashy love stories, this is our most popular column, but its popularity is beginning to wane. People want more. They want to know where these stories go, if the connections ever happen, the details beyond the blurbs of engagement announcements. That's what you are going to give them."

"What?!" Victor pushed up from his chair. Yakov hadn't assigned him a story in over six years. Victor had earned the right to chase down his own stories, hopping all other the world to pursue the most fantastic love stories and saving their magic for the pages of their humble newspaper. Victor had put their publication on the map, seeing it develop from a local printed publication to a viral online sensation. His stories extended beyond their walls, and he hadn't needed nor requested Yakov's assistance, even now as his inspiration was faded and hard to grasp.

"We'll call it a humbling experience," Yakov shoved Victor back into his chair, "a return to your roots. A gift to the people of this town who gave you your first chance at an audience. I know it isn't the international scandals you're used to, but I think you can find a way to make it work." Nodding in Georgi's direction, Yakov walked away from Victor's side, leaving him no time to respond or protest further.

Brows knitting together, Victor lifted the paper to examine the column dropped so rudely in his lap. He hardly paid attention to the other stories published in their paper, only reading Georgi's work when Georgi forwarded it to him directly. Victor knew his own stories were the most popular and had given up reading their publication from cover to cover years ago. Unfolding the paper, Victor shook his head at the cheesy tagline, eyes skimming over the carefully constructed columns.

"There is no way that these are real," Victor mumbled, reading another beautifully phrased line and shaking his head again. Common people sending in requests to meet strangers with whom they shared supposed moments couldn't write like this, Victor was absolutely positive on this fact.

"The requests are real," Georgi moved around the wall, leaning against Victor's desk with his palms braced on the edge of the wood surface, "but Yuuri rewrites them into small paragraphs of beauty. I don't know how he does it in so few words, but if you talk to Phichit, he'll tell you that at least three quarters of his wedding announcements are from people who Yuuri connected."

"That's one hell of a success rate," Victor commented, the words fading as he got lost in another five-line paragraph. Each request was simple, the words not overcomplicated, but somehow Victor felt himself investing in each beginning. One person was looking for another after sharing a laugh over geese startled by an overexcited cocker spaniel. Another was searching for a woman whose smile had broken through the pain of job loss, holding open a door with a simple, "I hope your day gets better." Every story was a simple beginning, but Victor instantly felt the need to know every ending.

"Magic, right?" Georgi grinned, reflecting the softness of Victor's own face. "His love stories are short and simple, yours are long and sensational. I can't wait to see the two of you together." Georgi laughed, throwing his head back as Victor flushed red. "Come on, champ, I'll introduce you." Grabbing Victor's elbow, Georgi pulled him up from the desk chair, ignoring Victor's sputtering as he dragged him across the floor of the newsroom.

* * *

"I know something you don't know," Phichit sang, throwing himself across Yuuri's desk and nearly upending Yuuri's coffee into his lap.

"What's new?" Yuuri joked, lifting his coffee away from its dangerous position near Phichit's elbow. He would normally shove his best friend from his desk, but Yuuri had been plowing through emails since he had flopped into his desk at eight a.m. and the break was more welcome than he wanted to let on.

"You know how your idol now works approximately fifty yards from your little hidden corner?" Phichit examined his nails as Yuuri glanced in his direction, eyes narrowing at the familiar tone of instigation in his friend's voice. Unable to form a response, Yuuri took another sip of his coffee, waiting for Phichit to continue. "Well, a little birdie might have made a suggestion-"

"Katsuki."

Phichit nearly toppled off of the desk as Yakov appeared. For a man with a naturally large presence, he had a terrible habit of sneaking up on his staff, taking years off of their lives every time they were discovered not engaging in work.

Clearing his throat, Yakov waited until Yuuri turned to face him. "Victor is going to need your help with his new project. Possibly yours too, Chulanont. Good luck."

As quickly as he had come, Yakov left them both behind, Phichit snickering at Yuuri's shocked facial expression. "I'm a little mad that Yakov got to tell you." Kicking his legs, Phichit launched himself from Yuuri's desk, placing a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "You've devoured every word Victor has ever written, been working at the same paper for four years, and never said a word to him. Maybe it's time to change that, yeah? Especially given the last _five_ weeks of silent flirting as your alter- _oomph!_ " Phichit slumped forward when Yuuri elbowed him in the gut.

He was about to scold Phichit for bringing up his biggest secret when footsteps approaching his desk stole his ability to speak. Going pale, Yuuri quickly shoved his glasses up his nose and swallowed hard, watching Georgi lean against the edge of his cubicle, arm looped over the stiff shoulders of the man who had captured Yuuri's attention – in and out of gold paint.

Georgi was talking, Victor was sure of it, but his mind had gone fuzzy as his eyes settled on the nervous looking man perched at the edge of his desk chair, messy black hair brushing over the tops of wire-rimmed glasses. When he finally looked up, Victor felt a familiar pull in his heart, a whisper in the back of his mind that told him he knew those eyes.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Victor blurted out, unconsciously taking a step forward, hand extending toward Yuuri's cheek. Catching himself, Victor shoved his hand deep into his pocket, rocking back on his heels.

"Actually…" Phichit piped up, grunting again when Yuuri jabbed an elbow into his side. "Phichit Chulanont," he extended a hand in Victor's direction, firing an annoyed look at Yuuri as he rubbed his side with his free hand. "And this menace is Yuuri Katsuki. I heard we are going to be helping you with your next big thing."

"Your column is amazing," Victor had pulled his hand from Phichit's grasp, missing Phichit's grumble about being chopped liver and Georgi's subsequent laughter, as he shifted closer to Yuuri. "Is your success rate for connections really seventy-five percent?"

The steady thud in Yuuri's ears told him his heart was still beating, even as he felt frozen in place by Victor's intense stare and unexpected compliment. He was used to being close to Victor, weeks of performing in the park bringing about a familiarity that felt natural and easy. But they weren't in the park, they were in Yuuri's cube and despite Victor's brief contemplation of Yuuri's face, it was clear that he didn't recognize Yuuri as his silver partner.

Sighing with relief, and a hint of disappointment, Yuuri fiddled with the handle of his mug. "I don't really keep track of success rates. That's a question for Mr. Feltsman. I just take the requests as they come in and format them for the column." Shrugging his shoulders, Yuuri jumped when Phichit exclaimed.

"Bullshit," Phichit scolded, leaning his arms on the back of Yuuri's chair. "Don't let him talk himself down. The requests that come in are barely legible and would charm absolutely no one. Yuuri is a literary cupid. He may not be playing matchmaker to the stars," Phichit let the comment hang as he ruffled Yuuri's hair, "but he does his best to bring love into our small part of the world."

Blushing, Yuuri stared down at his lap, his fingers flexing around his coffee mug.

"Can I buy you coffee?" Victor glanced down at Yuuri's mug and grimaced at himself. "Better coffee," he corrected. "There is a cart in the park, if you are up for a walk? We could discuss this idea Yakov is forcing down my throat."

Yuuri knew exactly what coffee cart Victor was talking about. It was directly next to the blooming tree they posed under every Saturday. His heart stuttered in his chest as the coffee mug disappeared from his hands, Phichit lifting it to his own lips and downing the contents. "You definitely need more coffee," his friend teased, hauling Yuuri to his feet by a death grip on his elbow. Stumbling, Yuuri found himself landing with a thud against Victor's chest.

"So, yes?" Victor asked, his eyes as hopeful as the question, his hands finding a hold on Yuuri's upper arms and squeezing lightly.

"Yes," Phichit and Georgi said at the same time, each of them taking a hold of their individual friend and pulling them towards the front doors. Sharing conspirator smiles, they shoved Victor and Yuuri through the doors, laughing at the startled shouts creating a wake behind them.

With shy smiles sneaking onto both of their faces, Victor and Yuuri fell into step with each other, heading toward a spot that was familiar to both of them.

* * *

Two hours passed without Victor noticing the time. They had ordered coffee from the cheerfully plump man who seemed determinedly happy at all hours of the day. Together, they had settled on a bench, under the same tree that he worked under every Saturday morning.

Yuuri had a strange sense of existing in a parallel universe. He had found comfort in Victor's silent presence and partnership as his Golden King, but this version of Victor, the version which talked with his hands and got distracted by every dog that walked by, had Yuuri falling for him all over again. By his estimation, he had now fallen in love with Victor Nikiforov three times, and Victor still seemed blissfully unaware that the man sitting next to him on the bench was the man he spent every Saturday morning holding in his arms. Frowning slightly as he lifted the last of his coffee to his lips, Yuuri listened intently as Victor continued to rattle off ideas for his column.

The sense of déjà vu had spun through Victor's mind ever since they had taken a seat on the bench. Every time Yuuri looked at him, brown eyes flitting between Victor's own eyes and his lips, Victor could feel the pull strengthen in his mind and heart. He knew there was something familiar about Yuuri, something he couldn't place, but the nagging voice in his mind told him it had nothing to do with working at the same office.

Conversation had been easy, and Victor had found himself feeling relaxed as ideas tumbled from him, spinning thought after thought as to how to handle his newest project. Yuuri had interjected with ideas of his own, adding fuel to Victor's creative fire. His mind felt brilliantly awake, his fingers twitching to return to his keyboard. Victor stood from the bench, pulling Yuuri with him on a mission to return to the office to get started.

Yuuri was too close as he was pulled to his feet, reaching out to hold Victor's waist when their shoulders collided. He froze as Victor's eyes landed on his hand, resting against Victor's hip in a place it hand been countless times over the past few weeks. Silently, Yuuri counted the seconds it took Victor to meet his eyes.

"Yuuri," Victor shifted, studying Yuuri's face and lifting his free hand towards Yuuri's glasses. Even though his prince's hand was normally covered by a glove, Victor would recognize that gentle, yet strong, grip anywhere. Tentatively, he pinched the side of Yuuri's glasses.

"I… uh... I gotta go." Yuuri ducked out of Victor's space, throwing his paper cup in the closest trash can and setting off at a run. "Thanks for the coffee! I'll email you!"

Heart thundering against his rib cage, Victor watched Yuuri flee. His mind whirled with possibilities, with the almost stinging uncertainty that he may have stumbled upon the identity of his prince.

Yuuri Katsuki was stunning as Victor's silent silver prince, but as a man, a fellow writer, and the owner of the cutest blushing cheeks Victor had ever seen – he was simply irresistible.

Now Victor only needed to figure out how to reveal his own secret to Yuuri, without causing the man to run away from him again.

Feeling determined, he tossed away his own coffee mug and set off back toward the office.

* * *

 _"Are you going?"_

Yuuri stared at the text from Phichit, guilt sinking into his stomach as he pushed down further into the lumps of his mattress. After his moment with Victor in the park, Yuuri had gathered his laptop from his desk and sprinted from the office, requesting permission from Yakov to work from home to finish out the week. Yakov had responded in kind, making an offhanded comment about Yuuri being overwhelmed by Victor's ridiculous existence which Yuuri had chosen to ignore. Yakov didn't need to know he was right, even if his boss didn't really know _why_ he was right.

Tossing his phone onto the bed, Yuuri glared at his bedside clock. By this time on every other Saturday, Yuuri would have already been through his prep routine, getting ready to head out of the door to meet Victor under the blossoms of their tree. Stubbornly unwilling to face Victor, terrified that all of his carefully crafted fantasies of the Golden King falling in love with the real version of Yuuri would evaporate if Victor knew the truth, Yuuri folded his arms and forced his eyes to shut.

If he didn't show up in the park today, and continued to only communicate with Victor by email, maybe he could avoid the inevitable disappointment of being rejected. Resolved to believe in his plan, Yuuri rolled onto his side, pulling his blankets over his shoulders and ignoring the anxious tears rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

Victor threw his bag across his apartment, flinching when he heard the sharp _crack_ against his wall.

Yuuri hadn't shown up. For three hours, Victor had posed, becoming more morose as the hours lagged on. He heard the whispers among the crowd, the acknowledgements that the king looked sad without his prince. Victor's heart hurt, in a way he wasn't sure it ever had.

He had confirmed Yuuri's identity on Friday morning by cornering Phichit and grilling Yuuri's best friend until Phichit cracked in exasperation. Victor hadn't resisted the urge to hug Phichit when his suspicions were confirmed and found himself laughing along with Phichit's teasing about how dumb both he and Yuuri tended to be. _How can two people so good at expressing other people's love, be so bad at handling their own?_ Phichit had questioned, leaving Victor both amused and confused.

He had figured maybe Yuuri needed time, but he had never imagined that Yuuri would stand him up. He felt the anger flare again, but he knew that the flames burned mostly in hurt and fear. Performing with Yuuri had brought Victor happiness, but a single conversation with Yuuri was enough to send Victor's heart falling at the other man's feet. He had written enough of other people's love stories, now Victor wanted a chance at writing his own.

An idea tickled his mind, causing Victor to stride across his apartment, snagging his laptop and slamming into a chair at his kitchen table. Leaving little gold flecks behind the trail of his fingertips, Victor quickly drafted an email. Slamming down the lid of his computer, he headed for his shower, determined to wash the paint and the pain from his skin.

* * *

To: KatsukiConnects

From: VNikiforov

 **Missed Connection Request**

You came to me, dressed as a prince,

Face of silver, but heart of gold

You welcomed me when I took a chance

Face of gold, heart on my sleeve

We've made people happy

We've crafted our story

But nothing compares

To the discovered reality

Covered in silver, or bespectacled and blushing

There's no denying, you're the prince of my heart

Please give me a chance, to prove I'm your king

Stay by my side, let's do this thing

Yuuri stared at his inbox, rereading the email and snorting again at the last line. It was poetic and beautiful, but he had a distinct vision of Victor excitedly pumping his fist in the air, declaring "let's do this thing!" as he had done earlier in the week. Then, Victor had been talking about his new column. Now, Victor was talking about them.

Biting his lower lip, Yuuri pulled his phone from its charger, sending a simple request to Georgi who responded with an address and a series of excited emojis. Shoving away his apprehension, Yuuri stood from his table, heading for his bedroom to change into the costume he had refused to wear that morning.

* * *

Hours into sulking, Victor was curled on his couch staring without seeing the movie flashing across his television. He told himself that Yuuri probably didn't check his work email on weekends, but he couldn't help the bad mood that had settled over him. Crossing his arms tighter over his chest, Victor frowned as the two people on his big screen shared a romantic kiss.

A knock on his door had Victor redirecting his frown. Unfolding his legs, Victor crossed the room, yanking open his front door and stopping dead in the middle of whatever he was going to say.

Nervously, Yuuri clutched a bouquet of light pink flowers. He was wearing his silver costume, hair combed back from his forehead, but all signs of silver paint and silver gloves missing from his ensemble. The blush on his cheeks was present though, and Victor felt his heart swoon.

"Did you mean it?" Yuuri finally pulled his gaze from his own feet to search Victor's face. "I'm not suave or smooth in real life. I'm no prince. But, if you… well if you want to take a chance on a mediocre columnist who loves your smile… well then… I could try to be?"

Yuuri squawked when Victor launched himself forward, capturing Yuuri in a bruising hug and whispering his acceptance into the warmth of Yuuri's neck, sighing when Yuuri's arms circled around his waist to return the embrace. "I have an idea," Victor proposed, still holding Yuuri close, unwilling to let him go in case Yuuri decided to run. "Want to come in and hear it?"

With a smile and a nod, Yuuri let himself be led into Victor's apartment, his heart singing with possibilities.

* * *

The spring breeze made the branches above them flutter as Victor and Yuuri stood together in their normal spots.

Today was different though.

Victor's first column, highlighting the power of small moments, had gone viral within the first three hours of its posting to their website. Three of the couples who had provided insight for Victor's article had originally been connected by Yuuri.

The fourth couple, one who Victor knew all the intimate details of, stood under the shade of the park's largest tree, dressed in matching shimmering gold for the world to see.

As they switched positions, hands clasped pointing forward, matching smiles highlighted in gold, Yuuri heard the whispered "I love you" against his cheek. And even though he would have to wait for their next position shift to return the sentiment, Yuuri beamed with the knowledge that Victor loved him.

Their lives now consisted of joint commutes to work, and dinners at the same table every night, but Victor still loved Saturdays, cherishing their time together as the Golden Kings of Love.

And even though Yuuri continued to write the beginnings of other people's love stories and Victor still stubbornly chased the power of love throughout the world, their favorite story would always be their own. A prince finding his king under the shade of the largest tree in the park, and a man finding his soulmate on a bench under the same shadow.

When the clock chimed in the middle of the park, Victor laced his fingers into Yuuri's, smiling as they left the park together, ready to add another chapter to their story.


End file.
